


How To Shorten Tedious Nights

by Dracothelizard



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Seasonal Affective Disorder, Yuletide 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 14:13:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracothelizard/pseuds/Dracothelizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James always gets a little melancholy in the winter, and Jeremy decides to be better at cheering James up than Richard is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How To Shorten Tedious Nights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kangeiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kangeiko/gifts).



> Disclaimer: All events in this fic are entirely made up. (except for a few Twitter references).
> 
> The title and the line of poetry quoted are from Now Winter Nights Enlarge by Thomas Campion (1567 - 1620), which was too fitting for me to ignore. 
> 
> For kangeiko, who wanted a supportive Jeremy and a James who needed that support. I hope you enjoy the fic :)

Richard knows the signs by now. James'll become slightly more withdrawn, a bit quieter, his laughter comes less easily, and more often than not he seems to be caught up in thought rather than pay attention. It tends to happen every winter since Richard's known him, and while he's reluctant to use the word 'winter depression', James always _is_ a little gloomier this time a year.

 

“You need to cheer James up,” he tells Jeremy over the phone. This is sometimes a good tactic with Jeremy, because he can't walk away from the phone. He can, however, choose to hang up. Fortunately, he doesn't.

 

“Why?” comes the reply, and Jeremy already sounds put out. “Has something happened to his favourite spanner?”

 

Richard rolls his eyes. “You're telling me you've never noticed he's always a bit, y'know, in the winter?”

 

“What, more annoying?”

 

He suspects Jeremy is being wilfully ignorant here, but he can't entirely be certain. “Quieter.”

 

“That's a good thing,” Jeremy declares. “Because otherwise he just keeps going on about his latest engine troubles and how he's tried everything but it still won't work.”

 

“Jeremy,” Richard replies firmly. “You bloody well know what I mean. I have to go back to America for a bit and-”

 

“You actually live there, Hammond, just admit it.”

 

He doesn't have time for this right now. “And you need to make sure James doesn't become more of a morose bastard.”

 

Jeremy is quiet for a moment. “How am I supposed to do that?”

 

Richard smiles. Finally. “Well, I usually drag him on a nice ride with the bikes, or we poke at an old car together.”

 

“No wonder he's so grumpy every winter if that's what you've been doing to him. Don't worry, Hammond, and have fun going back home.”

 

“I do not –” he starts, but Jeremy's already hung up. Typical.

 

-

 

Jeremy starts his 'cheering up James' plan by sending him pictures of animals looking stupid that he found on the internet, which is already a far better plan than going out on a motorbike. Far less deadly.

 

 _Why do you keep sending me pictures of dogs?_ James texts him two hours and thirty pictures later. _If this is your way of convincing me to get a dog rather than a new cat, it's not working._

 

He hasn't even thought of that, but it is clearly exactly what James needs. Cats are rubbish at companionship, dogs are brilliant at it. _You'll see sense eventually!_ He also starts sending James pictures of adorable puppies. Those are bound to cheer anyone up.

 

James doesn't reply again, which is clearly because he's overwhelmed by the puppies.

 

-

 

The next day they have lunch at a small pub, because Jeremy is in London for a meeting at the BBC and he hates the usual lunches that come with them. James took some convincing to leave his house, but Jeremy is nothing but stubborn. Having lunch by yourself is boring.

 

“It's always sandwiches,” he complains, as he and James tuck into their steak pies. “And no beer.”

 

“Everyone knows that the best ideas happen in the pub,” James replies, sipping from his pint. “You should continue the meeting here.”

 

Jeremy shudders at the idea. “No, they'll all complain that the water isn't freerange and that the wifi connection is terrible, because God forbid they can't check their email on their phone.”

 

“You've got yours on the table,” James says, gesturing at Jeremy's phone with his fork.

 

“That's to keep an eye on the time, James,” Jeremy replies airily. “Some of us actually care about being punctual.”

 

James chews on his steak pie for a moment, then swallows. “Since when do you care about being on time for a meeting?”

 

He hates it when James has a good point. “I like knowing exactly how long I'm making them wait.”

 

James snorts. “Of course, Clarkson. Of course.”

 

“Shut up and finish your steak pie.”

 

James does shut up, but Jeremy can see the hint of a smile as he keeps eating.

 

He is definitely better at this than Hammond.

 

-

 

Since his 'cheering up James' plan is going so well, he doesn't worry too much during the next day. James is a grown man who doesn't need him or Hammond to be an overly protective motherhen.

 

So Jeremy definitely doesn't watch his Twitter like a hawk that day, in case there are any signs of moodiness from James. And the lack of tweets doesn't worry him either, because most of James' tweets lately have been about boring bike problems or his issues with his advent calendar.

 

Keeping track of the ratio of animals in one's advent calendar is probably perfectly normal for OCDists like James.

 

He'll ring him tomorrow, just to make sure.

 

-

 

“May! That meeting the other day reminded me we need to set up a brainstorm session for Top Gear!”

 

“What? Why? The newest episodes have been pushed back indefinitely,” comes the reply.

 

“Not indefinitely, May, you know that,” Jeremy says. They've all been annoyed by the BBC deciding that X-Factor was too much to go up against, especially as the last series hasn't done that well ratingswise, so what was even the point of rescheduling? “January.”

 

“Which means it'll probably be February, and by then there'll be some other ridiculous talent show on,” James says, and sighs. “Clarkson, just admit there's no point in planning for the next series.”

 

Maybe there isn't right now, but considering how busy their schedules can get, it's not a bad idea to at least plan a little meeting. Without annoying sandwiches for lunch. “Why are you being so stubborn about this?”

 

“I'm not being stubborn, I'm being sensible. There's no point wasting everyone's time.”

 

“Oh, right, because grumping about your advent calendar, now there's a meaningful pursuit.” He's starting to feel grumpy himself.

 

“At least I can admit that's a waste of time,” James replies, far too calm. “Most of life's a waste of time, really.”

 

Jeremy closes his eyes for a moment. If this is what Hammond has to deal with every winter, Jeremy's surprised he's not fled to America sooner. “May, step away from the boring old poetry about the futility of existence.”

 

“That's Sartre, you clot.”

 

“Can you just stop overthinking everything for one moment?” Jeremy asks. “Just the once?”

 

James is quiet for a long time. “No,” he replies, and hangs up.

 

Jeremy glares at his phone, then huffs. He hates arguing over the phone when the other person just hangs up. Clearly, he's going to have to bother James in person.

 

Maybe with something cheering.

 

-

 

When he walks up to James' frontdoor, he frowns at the lack of light coming from inside. There's some light coming from behind the curtains, true, but not nearly as bright as the neighbours'. “No wonder he's being a mopey git,” Jeremy mutters, ringing the doorbell and knocking on the door for good measure.

 

James opens it after a few minutes of knocking, then sighs. “Come in,” he says, and steps back.

 

They go into James' livingroom in silence, and Jeremy gives James the wine bottle.

 

“If this is your way of tricking me into an impromptu brainstorm, it's not going to work,” James tells him, and eyes him suspiciously.

 

Jeremy turns on another lamp. “It's no wonder you're miserable every winter if you sit around in the dark all the time.”

 

“What?”

 

Jeremy turns to find James staring at him, surprised. “What? It's true.”

 

“I am _not_ miserable every winter,” James tells him pointedly. “Now why are you here?”

 

Despite what a lot of people think, Jeremy can be diplomatic. He holds up the DVD he brought with him. “To watch _The Great Escape_?”

 

James is still suspicious, but he relaxes a little. “Fine, but when we finish this bottle, you're not getting the next one.”

 

Jeremy snorts. “I slipped last time because you left a towel in the hallway.”

 

“Most people watch their step,” James tells him from the kitchen, where he is fiddling with a corkscrew. “And don't break a bottle of excellent red wine on my hallway carpet.”

 

“I improved it!” It's true. The original sort-of-brown was an eyesore.

 

“I had to get it recarpeted!” James calls back, and pours the wine.

 

“Improvement,” Jeremy insists. Even the current dark orange and red stripes combination is better than the old carpet. Despite James' frequent insistence that he's not actually colourblind, Jeremy plans to personally check one day.

 

“Bellend.” James hands him a glass, then sits down. “Now put that DVD on.”

 

-

 

Jeremy very carefully doesn't mention anything about being miserable as they watch the film and empty the bottle and open another one that James pointedly gets himself. Instead, Jeremy waits for the right moment where James is relaxed and slightly more likely to talk.

 

If he's honest, he needs the wine himself, because the idea of talking to James about it makes him want to punch himself in the face.

 

Well, Hammond first, for basically ordering him to keep an eye on James. Smug little git.

 

“So why don't you like the winter?” Jeremy asks, when the credits roll.

 

James blinks at him. “I like the winter, I just don't like being cold, getting stuck in the snow, the entire country coming to a halt and it being dark so early.” He pauses for a moment. “And the fake cheeriness you get in December just because Christmas is around the corner.”

 

“So you don't like winter,” Jeremy concludes.

 

James shrugs. “I like the _idea_ of winter,” he says. “A time for renewal and introspection, of sitting at the fire while ignoring the outside world for a bit. I just don't like the _reality_ of winter.”

 

Considering that the reality of winter is slushy snow, new draughts in the house and getting up earlier to scrape your car windows, Jeremy doesn't blame him. “You don't even have a fireplace.”

 

“My local does.”

 

Jeremy hmms, and sips his wine. “So you go there and you sit by the fire and you mope?”

 

“I don't mope,” James replies, sagging further on his sofa. “I'm just thinking. Selfreflection. You should try it.”

 

He knows how selfreflection works when you're already feeling down on yourself. He has his fair share of sleepless nights with nothing but his thoughts. That's why he rarely thinks about it during the day. He wonders how much 'selfreflecting' Richard has pulled James out of over the years and how much having the regularity of filming Top Gear in the winter has helped. Even Fusker must've done his share, and now James has nothing to distract him in the darkest time of the year. Everything's filmed and they're just waiting around. “Selfreflection doesn't mean you have to be grumpy and think everything is pointless.”

 

“Life is a bit pointless, though,” James argues. “We're born, we cock about, and then we die. We're not exactly prime examples of mankind's genius.”

 

“So?” Jeremy replies, because it's the only argument he can think of right now. “What's the point of life if you can't enjoy it? And I know you've read poems about that, you keep quoting them whenever you get pissed enough.”

 

“Let now the chimneys blaze, and cups o'erflow with wine; let well-tuned words amaze with harmony divine,” James says thoughtfully.

 

Jeremy nods. “See, nothing about 'become a miserable sod'.”

 

“I'm not miserable.”

 

Jeremy just looks at him.

 

“Melancholic maybe,” James eventually admits.

 

“Melancholic is just a another word for miserable,” Jeremy insists. “So cheer up.”

 

James lets out a laugh at that, slightly bitter, not his usual amused one. “Oh yes, because that's so easy, isn't it? Just cheer up.” He sighs.

 

He feels a little stupid now. He's had days of his own where nothing in the world could make him feel better, so why should James be any different? This has been going on for years. If there was a way for James to simply snap out of it, he would've done so by now. “So how do you usually deal with your... melancholy?”

 

James shrugs. “I keep busy,” he says. “Didn't work out this year.”

 

Jeremy waits for a moment, but James doesn't elaborate. “You won't overdo it, will you?”

 

“The selfreflecting?”

 

Jeremy nods. “'Cause if you do, I'll be forced to buy you a massive Meccanoset just to stop you from thinking too much.”

 

James smirks. “That's the opposite of a threat, Jeremy.”

 

“I'll insist on helping you and set the instruction manual on fire,” he adds.

 

“There's no fire involved in meccano,” James says after some consideration.

 

“There will be if I have anything to do with it.”

 

James huffs, and turns back to stare at the TV, which is playing the DVD's menu. “You, sir, are an arse.”

 

“Well, yes,” Jeremy replies, because there's no point denying it.

 

They sit in companionable silence for a while, until James sits up. “I have some boxes of meccano left from when I had that bridge built.”

 

Hunting around James May's attic after nearly two bottles of wine is a terrible idea, so of course Jeremy is all for it. “What're we waiting for, then?

 

Jeremy stands up, and when James follows suit, he puts a hand on Jeremy's arm. “One last thing, Clarkson,” he says.

 

Jeremy looks at him, wondering what James is about to say. A thank you for helping him out? A confession that without Jeremy's visit, his week would've been miserable? “What?”

 

James just smiles. “If you set fire to my meccano, I will kill you in your sleep.”

 

That's technically a merciful death, so Jeremy counts it as a thank you. “Just get the boxes, May.”

 

-

 

Richard rings James the day after he gets back.

 

“Hammond.”

 

“May,” Richard says, smiling. “How've you been?”

 

“All right. Clarkson came over a few days ago and we've made a meccano construction from my kitchen to my livingroom,” James tells him. “It can now transport a tray with drinks without it spilling much.”

 

Richard blinks. He told Jeremy to check on James and keep him cheerful, not to embark on some ridiculous meccano building adventure.

 

He should've seen this one coming, really.

 

“You have?” he says, a little incredulous, because, well, normally building projects with Jeremy are a bit more disastruous. “And Jeremy helped?”

 

“Well, he mostly complained it wasn't going fast enough, but yes,” James replies.

 

“Can I come over and see?” he asks. While James probably could do with some time to himself after dealing with the meccano and Jeremy, Richard is far too curious not to.

 

“Come by tomorrow afternoon,” James says. “Bring whatever meccano you have lying around, Clarkson's bringing his. We're going to extend the route to my bathroom.”

 

It sounds ridiculous. “Jeremy has meccano?”

 

“Yes, from when his children were younger. Are you coming by or not?”

 

“Of course I am,” he replies, grinning. “Don't start without me.”

 

They say goodbye and hang up, and Richard is still grinning when he calls Jeremy.

 

“Thanks,” he says.

 

“For picking up?”

 

He laughs. “You know what I mean.”

 

“You've talked to James, then?” Jeremy asks.

 

“Yeah, he sounds pretty cheerful. Well done,” he tells Jeremy. “I'm coming over tomorrow to-”

 

“You should've asked for my help sooner, Hammond. I cheered him up better than you ever did,” Jeremy declares.

 

Richard just rolls his eyes. “You have not.”

 

“Have.”

 

He flat out refuses to argue over this. “It's not a competition, Clarkson!”

 

“But if it was, I would've won. Admit it.”

 

He huffs. “If you're still this annoying tomorrow, I'm going to take some meccano and shove it up your arse.”

 

Jeremy just laughs. “See you tomorrow, Hammond.”

 

Richard can't wait.


End file.
